Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

Carla has a point. As much as that thought makes my insides wither, I know the right thing is to get her husband. If I was comatose drunk, I wouldn’t want two people bitching over me. I’d want Christopher to take me home and save me the embarrassment.

“I’ll be right back.” Leaving her with Dorothy, I open the toilet door, fully expecting Wayne to be outside.

He followed us into the corridor, but it’s now empty, barring a couple of men swaying to the gents’ down the hall.

Strange.

My heart speeds up, my pulse hammering in my throat. I’m not taking any risks. Moving swiftly, I head back towards the ladies’ toilet.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingle. Nervous energy sweeps through me without remorse.

I’m so taken with the need to get back to the loos that I ram into some poor unsuspecting guy, sending myself flying, spinning face-first onto the wall.

“Sorry,” the man says, his voice vibrating through the loud drumming of my pulse in my ears.

I can’t form the words to reply with the pain shooting to the back of my skull, leaving me in a haze, stomach churning with my momentary disorientation.

It never clears, fuzzing my extremities. The prickles from before become nails, deflating my consciousness. All I can think is that I’m in trouble as I collapse on myself, dragged under a sickly sea of darkness.

Chapter 41

Christopher

The gallery room has pretty much cleared, and people have moved back into the dinner room with the dance floor. Charles excused himself soon after Edgar. Coleman is proving hard to shake. He keeps interrogating me like he’s interviewing me for a job. I suppose he is.

He seems genuinely interested on my thoughts on how the justice system and outdated jurisdiction are letting our modern society down. They haven’t adapted enough.

“A word of advice,” he says. Arms crossed over his chest and looking straight at me, he levels me with his narrowed stare. “You want to make a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Keep your affairs private.”

“Excuse me?” I’m ready to jump down his throat and give him a thorough shakedown.

“Don’t diminish your cause by flaunting your private life.” He pockets his age-withered hands.

Seems rich coming from him.

“I won’t endorse attention-seekers.”

“But you will support a reward system based on popularity rather than potential and track record?”

“I beg your par—” I silence him, raising my hand between us, as Wayne saunters to me.

Confusion pinches his face. “I thought you didn’t want me to take my eyes off Arabella?” he spits at me.

“Where is she?” Dread takes over every cell of my being. A sick feeling blisters my insides.

“In the toilets, where I told you.” He steps closer, confusion becoming worry. “What the fuck is going on?”

Pulling his phone out, he speaks into his lapel while handing it to me.

I read the messages he points to.

WAYNE: What’s happening?

ME: I need you out here. Now.